Home is Behind, the World Ahead
by sherlocked-meriadoc
Summary: Have you ever stared death in the face and said, "I am to die"? No? Well, these 2 have. And their world is ahead, their home behind. Mainly of Pippin, Merry, and Faramir. (Sequel to "From Long Ago When Lanterns Burned")
1. For Home a Song

**For a Home a Song**

**"Every villain is a hero in his own mind."**

**-Thomas W. Hiddleston**

It was months since the day Legolas had departed for Imladris-instead it felt like years. Where he was now, she couldn't guess. The Mirror of Erised had gone so she couldn't look in it, and had no other way to seek him. There wasn't anyone else who knew what she was and never cared. In fact, no one else knew at all. Not even a suspicion.

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Night had fallen. The Battle for Helm's Deep was over. But all that was on Legolas's mind was Mirkwood. He had no idea of anything going on there. He was scared, though his face did not show it, scared that Sauron might come to power again, scared that if he never got back... His father could fade, because he had never really gotten over the fact that Amara was never coming back, that she was gone, dead to the world. "Legolas." It was Aragorn. "What is bothering you, _mellon nin_?" Legolas didn't respomd, at least not immediately, afraid that if he spoke too soon that everything would fall in pieces around him. "Nothing, Estel,"Legolas responded with an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Sometimes he wondered what would have happened had he not decided to go on this quest. The 'prophecy' seemed only more than a poem. He knew it came from Bilbo and that he had passed it on to Gandalf, but how could a Halfling predict what was to become of a war?

_"All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost_

_The old that is strong does not wither, deep roots are not reached by the frost._

_From the ashes a fire shall be woken, a light from the shadows shall spring_

_Renewed shall be blade that was broken, the crownless again shall be king..."_

What was the meaning? It was more confusing than the poem that had come to Boromir in a dream. The only part that Legolas could make of it was the very last line. Of course, Estel was Isildur's heir, so naturally he would take the throne. The stars glittered high overhead. The same stars Lorin were looking at perhaps this very moment...

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Trouble was brewing in Mirkwood. Thranduil knew that the guards were doing all they could to keep things calm, but it didn't seem to be doing anything-the orcs and wargs just kept coming back. It simply liked too much for them to handle. He was worried for Legolas, because if he never came back from his journey... He couldn't even bear to think about it. What was to become of his only son?

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The stars were shining bright tonight. Nàin had passed by Lorin's bedroom, filled with drawings and materials, and shook his head, remembering as though it were yesterday that she and Nurhísië had been hissing insults at each other. Lorin, meanwhile, had only Legolas on her mind. Where was he? The rail of the balcony was a thin one, and a precarious place to sit, but the trees were there to break her fall. Facing the trees of Greenwood the Great, her green gaze unmoving. As one of the Dunedain and the line of Alrin, Lorin knew that her life would be long lived, but most didn't live past a thousanf, even with the blood of the Dunedain. Having both Dwarven and Hobbit ancestors, she had the choice between an immortal life and a mortal one. Even without the choice, Lorin would have preferred to choose the immortal life, seeing that _if _she ever had children (extra emphasis on the "if") she would not have them be without either their mother or father... Death was a painful thing, to those who cared for the person who has passed on. Most Elves didn't bother with making mortal friendships, for they would die and they would be stricken with grief. Being immortal wasn't exactly all flowers and sunshine. Seeing the mortal friendships die year after year after year was nothing to be snickered at, and even with the many things Elves could do that others could not, they could still be hurt gravely, even die in battle, fade from grief. They were used to the mortal flaw of death. Death would take them at some point. Sometimes she wished she were not immortal, as to join those who had died in death. To die a natural death was one thing, but to ask for it? That was an entirely different matter. Death was no friendly spirit. It took the lives of loved ones at no cost. But then there were those who whispered rumors, rumors that the Elves did not truly understand the cost of death, as they did not die of natural causes. But could they truly say that? Could they truly say that anyone is silly and knows of nothing, that they had never stared Death straight in the face and say, "If I am to die, so be it"? Lorin had seen many battles, seen full grown men get down on their knees and cry, knowing that fateful day could be their last, heard women and children cry out for their husbands and fathers who may never come home. So many had died, and she hoped that the Ring would be destroyed, as to never see such suffering again. In the midst of the trees, a solitary note rose, followed by many others, creating a eery tune which no one would ever forget, even in death. The birds had begun to sing again after so many years. So long had they stayed silent, no song coming from their mouths, no whispers from the trees. The danger was growing every minute. And it would be ended soon. Soon it would, and Lorin was sure of it. Sauron would never rise again.

**"And be comforted, Samwise. If you seem to have stumbled, think that it was fated to be so. Your heart is shrewd as well as faithful, and saw clearer than your eyes."**

**-Faramir**


	2. If You're Brave Enough to Say Good Bye

**If You're Brave Enough to Say "Good-Bye"**

**"It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of all of them. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it , entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible... It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that."**

_**-Albus Dumbledore, The Sorcerer's Stone, pg. 213-214, chapter 12**_

The Battle of Helm's Deep had been won, owing to the fact that Galadriel had sent aid with Haldir-at least two thousand Elves, armed with bows and swords. Now they were in Edóras, reunited with Pippin and Merry, whom they had found at a now flooded Isengard. Not so long ago had Pippin decided to look into Saruman's palantír and discovered Sauron's next strike-Minas Tirith. Gandalf had decided to leave with Pippin towards the city to find Denethor, the Steward of Gondor, with much pleading from Merry for Pippin to stay behind or at the very least take him with them, but to no avail. But Gandalf and Pippin weren't leaving yet, which proved useful for Merry to talk to Pippin. "Why did you look?"he questioned,"Why do you always have to look?"

"I don't know... I can't help it,"Pippin responded, though sounding slightly unsure. Merry turned away from his cousin and best friend. "You never can,"he said, perhaps a bit sadly. It sends a twinge of regret through Pippin, the youngest of the Fellowship, though seeing all that he had now, he seemed different.

"I'm sorry, alright? I won't do it again,"Pippin tells Merry lightly, sincere and slightly tearful. This proves to be too much for Merry and he turns on his younger cousin. "Don't you understand..."he said, partly asking. "The Enemy thinks you have the Ring... He's going to be looking for you, Pip. They have to get you out of here!"

"And you,"Pippin adds, feeling comfort that Merry would be accompanying them. "You're coming with me... Merry?"he asks, realizing Merry had a grim look on his face. Merry turned away and said sharply, "Come on!" But Pippin didn't follow for the longest time, not until it was time to leave for Minas Tirith.

Although Pippin was put quite unceremoniously upon Shadowfax, he couldn't care less. "How far is Minas Tirith?"he asked Gandalf nervously, who was hurriedly preparing to leave.

"Three days ride as the Nazgul flies, and you'd better hope we don't have one of those on our tail,"Gandalf responded. Just then Merry thrust a small package into Pippin's hands. "Here,"he said, smiling apologetically, "something for the road." Pippin stared down upon the carefully wrapped pipe weed. "The last of the Longbottom leaf,"he said in amazement.

"I know you've run out,"Merry told Pippin. "You smoke too much, Pip..."

"But we'll see each other soon?"Pippin asked, fear grasping his heart. Merry exchanged a worried glanced with Gandalf. "Won't we?"Pippin repeated.

"I don't know... I don't know what's going to happen,"Merry responded, his heart plummeting. Gandalf mounted Shadowfax, while a scared Pippin called in rising panic, "Merry?" Gandalf spurred the great horse onwards, while Pippin cried in panic,"Merry!" finally realizing what was going on. Shadowfax thundered out of the stables, leaving behind a devastated Meriadoc Brandybuck.

**"If you're brave enough to say 'goodbye,' life will reward you with a new 'hello.'"**

**-Paulo Coehlo**

**"At some point, you have to realize that some people can stay in your heart, but not in your life."**

**-Anonymous**


	3. The White Tree of Gondor

**The White Tree of Gondor**

**"Those who fear the darkness have no idea what the light can do."**

**-Katasai Rakshasa**

Shadowfax, Pippin, and Gandalf arrived at the citadel of the city-set upon a great summit, 1000 feet above the Pelennor Fields. Gandalf and Pippin dismount, leaving the citadel guards to tend to Shadowfax. Gandalf hurries off, with Pippin trailing behind him, taking in his surroundings. A dead tree caught his eye,standing in the middle of the courtyard with 4 solemn guards standing sentry around it. "It's the tree,"Pippin said in a whisper. He cried out, "Gandalf! Gandalf!"

"Yes, the white tree of Gondor. The tree of the king,"Gandalf explained briefly. "Lord Denethor, however, is not the king. He is a steward only-a caretaker of the throne." Gandalf lowered his voice as they approached the Tower Hall. "Now, listen carefully,"Gandalf said quietly, "Lord Denethor is Boromir's father. To give him news of his beloved son's death would be unwise... And do not mention Frodo... Oe the Ring... And say nothing of Aragorn, either." He hesitated before adding, "In fact, it's better if you don't speak at all, Peregrin Took." Pippin, who was suitably chastened, nodded.

Between the black marble pillars of the tower hall stood a silent company of tall kings, made of cold stone. Gandalf strode down the hall, with Pippin following obediently behind. At the far end, upon a dais of many steps, is a large, empty, throne. At the foot of the dais is a small stone chair, in which sat an old man gazing at his lap: Denethor, Steward of Gondor. "Hail, Denethor, son of Ecthelion, lord and Steward of Gondor." Denethor did not look up as Gandalf and Pippin approached. "I come with tidings in this dark hour,"Gandalf continued, "and with counsel." Denethor slowly raised cold eyes, dead as the stone itself.

He held up Boromir's broken horn,"Perhaps you come to tell me why my son is dead?" Pippin had a sudden flashback to Boromir's last moments as the Uruk-Hai shot him with arrows, one by one. He started forward, unable to say a word. "Boromie died to save us,"Pippin explained,"my kinsman and me... He fell defending us from many foes." Pain flickered in Denethor's eyes. "Pippin!"Gandalf hissed. Pippin paid no heed to the Istari, dropping to his knee, offering Denethor his sword, "I offer you my service, such as it is, in payment of this debt." Denethor looked at the halfling with a blank look, overcome with grief. "Get up!"Gandalf said to Pippin, who promptly stood up. Adressing Denethor, he said, "My Lord, there will be a time to grieve for Boromir, but it is not now. War is coming... The Enemy is on your doorstep. As Steward,you are charged with the defence of this city. Where are Gondor's armies?"

Denethor's gaze turned slowly on Gandalf. "You think you are wise, Mithrandir, yet for all your subtleties, you have not wisdom,"he said softly but coldly. "Do you think the eyes of the White Tower are blind? I have seen more than you know. With your left hand you would use me as a shield against Mordor and with your right you would seek to supplant me." Denethor's eyes narrowed; the look in Gandalf's read shock. "I know who rides with Theoden of Rohan,"he continued in a contemptuous tone. "Oh yes-word has reached my ears of this Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and I tell you now, I will not bow to this Ranger from the North-last of a ragged horse, long bereft of Lordship."

"Authority is not given to you to deny the Return of the King-Steward!"Gandalf retorted, stung.

"The rule of Gondor is mine and no others!"Denethor spat, explosive with anger. Gandalf looked at Denethor closely for a moment, then turned on his heel to leave, Pippin following. "Come,"he said the halfling before striding out of the hall with Pippin following obediently behind.

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"There was never much hope,"Gandalf said, while Pippin looked up at him, unnerved. Gandalf gave him a small, self-deprecating smile. "Just a fool's hope."

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A trail of great fires moved from peak to peak, kingdom to kingdom. On a rocky peak high above Edoras, a great beacon is lit. Bells tolled urgently. Aragorn darted into the Golden Hall, crying out, "The beacons of Minas Tirith! The beacons are lit! Gondor calls for aid!" Eowyn and Eomer turned to look at their uncle, wondering how he would answer as the tension built. Throden raised his head to look Aragorn in the eye. "Then Rohan will answer,"he declared. "Muster the Rohirrim!"

Theoden watched as below, the soldiers prepared for battle. Eowyn hurriedly pulled on riding gloves, readying to mount her horse. "You ride with us?" Eowyn turned to find Aragorn at her side. "Just to the encampment. It is tradition for the women of the Court to farewell the men,"she explained. Aragorn smiled and, reaching past her, he lifts a cover to reveal a sword, strapped to the side of the saddle of her horse. Eowyn deftly pulled thr cover back down with a look directed at Aragorn. "The Men have found their Captain,"she said quietly. "They will follow you into battle, even to death. You have given us hope."

Theoden stared around the streets and at the people of Edoras, as if he knew he was never going to see it again. "So... It is before the walls of Minas Tirith that the doom of our time will be decided. " Eómer, astride his horse, called to the assembled soldiers, "Now is the hour. Riders of Rohan, oaths you have taken. Now fulfill them all-to Lord and land!"

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"What would you have me do?"

"I will not yield the River and Pelennor unfought,"Denethor told his only living son, Faramir. "Osgiliath must be retaken."

"My Lord, Osgiliath is overrun,"Faramir replied.

"Much must be risked in war. Is there a Captain here who still has the courage to do his Lord's will?" The look on Faramir's reveals nothing, though as he realizes the truth, it shows hurt.

"You wish now that our places had been exchanged,"Faramir said quietly, "that I had died and Boromir had lived?" For a brief moment Denethor seemed to hesitate, then nodded. "Since you are robbed of Boromir, I will do what I can in his stead,"Faramir continued, bowing low to his father, then turning to leave, stopping, then turning back. "If I should return... Think better of me, Father,"he said.

"That will depend on the manner of your return,"Denethor responded, turning his attention back to his meal as Faramir exited the room, perhaps for the last time in his life.


	4. Through Shadow

**Through Shadow**

**"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step into the road, and there's no knowing where you might be swept off to."**

**-Bilbo Baggins**

Gandalf hurried alongside Faramir's horse, trying to stop him from risking his life. "Faramir! Your father's will has turned to madness! Do not throw away your life so rashly!"

"Where does my allegiance lie if not here?"Faramir asked in a deadened tone. Gandalf read the pain in his eyes. He called after Faramir again, trying to stop the young man once more. "Your father loves you, Faramir!"he called. He added quietly,"And will remember it before the end."

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"Can you sing, Master Hobbit?"

Well, yes. At least, well enough for my own people. But we have no songs for great halls and... Evil times,"Pippin responded uneasily.

"And why should your songs be unfit for these halls, or for hours such as these? Come-sing me a song."

Pippin hesitated before his simple, clear voice echoed slightly through the vast halls.

_"Home is behind, the world ahead_

_And there are many paths to tread:Through shadow; to the edge of night_

_Until the stars are all alight. Mist and shadow, cloud and shade_

_All shall fade_

_All shall..._

_Fade..."_

As Pippin came to the end of his bittersweet song, he looked up at Denethor, who continued as he had not just sent his own son to his death. Pippin turned away, sorrow etched on his young face.

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"The horses are restless,"Legolas observed. "And the men are-quiet...?"

"They grow nervous in the shadow of the mountain,"Eómer said.

"That road there-where does that lead?"Gimli asked, referring to a row of ancient standing stones that marked the entrance to a road leading away from the encampment anf into the mountain.

"It is the road to the Dimholt,"Legolad told him. "The door under the mountain."

"None who venture there ever return,"Eómer added. Under his breath he said,"That mountain is evil."

Aragorn stood before the road as though transfixed. Before him a horse whinnied and pulled at its ropes. A ghostly figure seemed to come from the gloom. For a moment Aragorn's eyed widened in fear. "Aragorn!" Aragorn looked down at the speaker-Gimli. "Let's find some food." Aragorn cast another look at the ancient standing stones before following Gimli.

All was quiet in the encampment. Eówyn kneeled before Merry, adjusting his head strap. "There! A true Esquire of Rohan." Merry let out a breath he didn't know he was holding-excited and terrified in equal measure. In his excitement, he drew his sword. Eówyn stepped back, laughing. "Sorry. It isn't all that dangerous,"Merry told her. In a despondent voice, he said, "It isn't even sharp."

"Well, that's no good,"Eówyn replied. "You won't kill many Orcs with a blunt blade. Come on." As Eówyn and Merry left the tent, Eómer and Gamling are sitting nearby, finishing a meal. Eówyn ushered Merry off. "To the Smithy-go!" Merry hurried to the Smithy while Eómer looked on. Turning to his sister, he told her, "You should not encourage him."

"And you should not doubt him,"Eówyn responded.

"I do not doubt his heart,"Eómer said,"only the reach of his arm." Gamling stifled a laugh and Eówyn turned on both of them. "Why should Merry be left behind?"she asked. "He has as much cause to go to war as you." To herself she added, "Why can he not fight for those he loves?"

Aragorn led his horse through the tents, towards the Dimholt road. A light flared ahead of him. A short figure stepped out of the shadows, pipe in hand:Gimli. "And just where do you think you're off to?"he asked gruffly. Aragorn looked at the dwarf, grateful for his courage but determined to go alone. "Not this time... This time you must stay, my friend."

"Have you learned nothing of the stubbornness of dwarves?" Aragorn cast his gaze to Legolas as he appears, leading his horse already saddled.


End file.
